Truth And Illusion Are Often Disguised As Each Other.

I briefly mentioned my love for Tony Leung back here, but the older I get and the more films I watch him in the more I realise I have a quite unprecedented crush on the man, considering is, what, fifty-odd? Almost. Oh, 48. That isn't so bad. But it's quite long-lasting. At uni our units relating to contemporary cinema invariably looked a lot at Asian cinema, and he does feature quite a lot in that particular region. Especially considering the heart that was directed at Wong Kar Wei back in the early years of last decade, before 2046 (which isn't terrible, mind) and My Blueberry Nights (which I haven't seen, but I have never held my breath for) came out. I think my true love for him, however, stems from my 200...5 (?) watching of Happy Together at an ACMI curated festival of WKW films at the Dendy in Circular Quay. It was the first time I'd seen the film, it was a last minute decision as my boss had a spare comp ticket, and I loved the film. I'd always liked Leung before that, but with the addition of a much, much loved film he suddenly jumped higher. And now I've seen a bunch more titles with him, and my love for him (more a strong emotional respect than the kind of love I have for, say, Jónsi, Brad Pitt or Joseph Gordon Levitt, mind) grows each time I see him in something.


Which is almost entirely beside the point. This has nothing to do with love, really, or with Happy Together, WKW or my future husbands. It's to do with John Woo's first Asian film since 1992 (or his first two films, depending on where you happened to take them/it in.) Apparently, the story is quite well known in China, but it was deemed to confusing with too many characters with similar names for western audiences to handle unabridged, so the two part film was reduced to one film (still two and a half hours long, but that's well reduced from the four of the original) for our eyes. Probably for the best. I do sometimes struggle. As we know.

Red Cliff is an epic Chinese war film, that surprisingly does away with the general martial arts stylings that seem to be favoured by the big action pieces that seem to have emerged from the region over the last decade or so (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Hero, House Of Flying Daggers etc.) I have no issue with this martial arts style, but it is nice to see something a little more lo-fi. Having said that, John Woo does know how to go for big action stylings.


The story is ostensibly about duelling war lords in the China of 1800 years ago. There are alliances broken and collapsed, treachery suspected and punished, ploys both successful and unsuccessful. And at the end, the battle of Red Cliff, the climax. Both sides employ some clever (and marginally diabolical... though if only modern warfare were so poetic) tactics in order to both unsettle and offput their opponents, and the final battle is terrific to watch for its cleverness and luck. Tony Leung sniffs out the wind and everything goes well for the right people (of course - that's not a spoiler, that's a fact of life in the movies, honey. Especially ones with mammoth budgets.)


Woo, who wrote the script also, does very well. I believe the last film I saw of his was Face/Off, though there is a chance I saw M:I-2 also... generally speaking, his aren't the kinds of films I enjoy. This, however, I enjoyed. I liked the way it looked, I liked the way it played. The focus wasn't merely on the action, but neither was the prominent subplot a love story - it was about tactics, about past wrongs. It was more cerebral than emotional, with the head feeding into the heart. I liked that. It kept me thinking, rather than trying to manipulate me into feeling - something I find happens all too often. The performances weren't overly important, but they were good. Leung was gently commanding with his presence, taking over last minute from Chow Yun-Fat whose physicality would possibly lend himself more to this position. Photography from Lu Yue and Zhang Li was good, though the visual effects could have done with a bit more money thrown at them, or a little less reliance to make their sometime clunkiness a little less distracting.


Overall, it was a good film. I'd actually really like to watch the double feature version now that I've wrapped my head around the basic story, but that's one for the future. For now we'll just leave my enjoyment at 3.5 stars.

Liverpool Calling.

There were a lot of criticisms levelled at Nowhere Boy when it opened here last year. Coming, as it did, from acclaimed artist Sam Taylor-Wood, a lot of people were hoping for something edgier, something a little more artistic. Probably coming off the back of films like Hunger and Le Scaphandre et le Papillon by artists of similar stature didn't help. Then, a lot of people had similar criticisms that were heaped on Coco Avant Chanel - why focus a biopic on the time before the subject was famous? Surely there are better stories to tell from that period. After all, that's the John Lennon/Coco Chanel/whoever that we all know and love, right?

The last sentiment I totally disagree with - if anything, we already know that story. All we may know of the earlier period is 'John Lennon grew up in Liverpool, primarily looked after by his Aunt. He was kind of rebellious.' His later life? So well documented that showing it on film isn't really going to provide any insights - we know it all already. Unless you take a different tack and go down the lines of something like I'm Not There, the Bob Dylan biopic (which is coming up on here shortly, when I catch up), which was an incredibly innovative way of presenting a story we may otherwise already know way too well.


The first criticism I can understand, however. Prior to the release of the film I was looking forward to it like... something that is is looking forward to something a lot. I was very excited about seeing what Taylor-Wood would do with this story, how inventive it would be. Then the reviews came out, and I thought 'oh, ok, maybe I won't rush out and see it.' And then I got busy and didn't see it. And then I saw it on DVD and hired it. And that brings us to here. (Please do let me know if you would like blow-by-blow descriptions of how I came about watching every movie. I think that was possibly the most thrilling few sentences I've ever put on paper. Or pixel. Shut up.)


So, I went into this exploration of Lennon's early years not expecting visual fireworks, and that's exactly what I got. What Taylor-Wood has provided, instead, is a solid little look at what it may have been like for our little Beatle (played by Aaron Johnson) growing up with his aunt Mimi (Kristin Scott Thomas) without knowing his mother Julia (Anne-Marie Duff.) When he discovers his mother in fact lives close by, he rebels against Mimi, who may have been strict at times but is heartbreakingly portrayed as hoping for only what she considers the best for John, before discovering precisely how unreliable his real mother his - she is prone to fits of depression and despair, irrational anger that forces those near her again and precipitated the need for Mimi to take control of her son's life.


Throughout this John is beginning to spread his musical wings, fashioning himself after Elvis Presley as he puts together a band, including first meeting and collaborating with Paul McCartney (Thomas Sangster.) His music is an outlet as much as an escape route, but his egoism threatens to break everything apart - as we know, however, Paul and John went on to the incredible partnership with George Michael and eventually Ringo Star. And the rest is history. Which is presumably why it is not in this film.


Scott Thomas and Duff have been suitably lauded over the year since the film's release, so I won't really go into it again except to reiterate that they are, indeed, magnificent. Johnson is very good in his portrayal on Lennon, much better than my impression received from his turn in Kick-Ass earlier this year. Sangster has an incredibly intriguing look about him that is almost too distracting - I still remember him very well from his brief stint in Bright Star last year because he just jumped out at me. He is incredibly intense and just cocky enough to put up with Lennon and fight back when necessary. His is a job very well done.


Matt Greenhalgh, who penned the fabulous Control a few years back, was on scripting duty here, and did well, layering the characters nicely and providing depth to all who shared the screen. Goldfrapp duo Alison Goldfrapp and Will Gregory provided the great accompanying score, which featured pretty much no Lennon tunes - it was nice to see that in a biopic. Of course, it makes perfect sense - you can't feature a song in a biopic before it's written, right? And Seamus McGarvey shot the film very nicely - there was nothing flashy about it, but everything looked... well, right. Like it fitted. There were no visual distractions.


Ultimately, this is probably going to be my criticism here. Yes, the film was good. It was a good little film, well made, well acted, well told. But nothing popped. And when someone like Sam Taylor-Wood is at the helm, you kind of expect it to pop. Even if it pops in a terrible, terrible way. Like, put Andy Warhol at the helm of Lonesome Cowboys and you don't really get a great film, but fuckdamnit it's interesting! It's at least fascinating as an artwork. Sure, there's real money from real investors at stake here, so maybe you don't want it to be a total disaster, but you can take some risks. Steve McQueen's Hunger could have been a total failure. The film had virtually no dialogue, for god's sake. There's, what, a sixteen minute static shot in the middle of it? It could totally have fallen on it's face. It didn't, but without the risks it just would have been another biopic. This was interesting, and yes it turned out terrific. But only because the risk was taken.


In the end, I don't think a desire for what the film may have been in a situation like this should take away from the verdict of what the film was, and what I would have been perfectly content with had the director been someone other than Taylor-Wood. It's a definite 3.5 star film. And ok, while it may have been closer to 5 stars had Taylor-Wood pulled off some risktaking, it may also have fallen to 1 star. But what's better - mediocrity or failure?

Fetch Me My Diet Pills, Would You?

I've put off watching John Waters' Hairspray for years, because I was afraid of not liking it. I was afraid that something so well known by someone so notorious wouldn't interest me. What I'd seen of it didn't really appeal to me, and I thought it safer to never know then to actually not like the film. I don't know why I came to this conclusion, but I did. 

Doesn't she just look delightful?

Now, I've seen it. And no, I didn't psychotically love it, but I sure didn't hate it either. It's quite an enjoyable romp, camped up a fair bit, but still packing a punch when it comes to acceptance and integration in the heady years of the AIDS crisis. Yes, that whole black subplot is a metaphor, boys and girls. I don't know if that came through in the 2007 version (I haven't seen it, and probably won't.)


Ricki Lake (that's right, Ricki Lake) plays Tracy Turnblad, an overweight teen in 1960s America, obsessed, with her best friend Penny Pingleton (Leslie Ann Powers), with a television show called The Corny Collins Show, where basically people go on and dance. That's all they do. And Tracy wants to be on it. She auditions and gets in, much to the chagrin of her parents Edna (Divine) and Wilbur (Jerry Stiller.) She becomes more and more popular within the show, angering the reigning queen Amber (Colleen Fitzpatrick), and begins to style her hair bigger and bigger, with lots of hairspray (ba-doom), to the point where she is sent to special education classes as punishment. There, she meets a bunch of black people (in 1960s residual racist America, remember) and falls into an anti-segregation movement, using her newfound fame and popularity to influence.


The themes regarding race are very strong, but this isn't a retrospective film examining the prior wrongs of society towards a minority race. Waters is far too modern for that, and absolutely not subtle enough. This is 1988 America and he has cast a prominent (and quite large) drag queen in the role of the main character's mother, after all. AIDS is really hitting its stride and, while I can't say for sure, not having been present in America at the time, I'm fairly certain there would have been a hell of a lot of homosexual discrimination and homophobia even more rampant than what can often be found today. With the focus on dancing and looks, the camped up nature of the film and the inclusion of Divine, so unapologetically, Hairspray works on the level of metaphor very effectively. It's not particularly subtle, though I'm sure that if you really wanted to you could enjoy the film the way it stands and still punch a homo on the way home.


The film itself does work. It is very entertaining, and the politics, whilst obvious, aren't heavyhanded. Or, not as heaveyhanded as they could have been, at least. The performances are all hysterical, even as they are totally over the top (though I've never really been able to stand watching Stiller for long periods of time... but we do love the inclusion of Deborah Harry) and the story moves along very nicely. It looks fantastic also, big bright colours splashed everywhere gaudily. I can definitely see why it has become a cult classic, and I do look forward to watching it again somewhere down the line, probably distractedly whilst eating popcorn and having a glass of wine with friends. It's the perfect film to have in the background as you focus part of your attention elsewhere. It is complex enough to warrant your attention, but the strokes are broad enough that you can look away without missing anything. 3.5 stars.

A Magical Protection.

Ousmane Sembene was really the first African director to achieve any international prominence. Starting his creative career as a writer, a novelist, he moved into filmmaking with his first feature hitting in 1966. His films won acclaim and attention around the world, seeing him serve prominently on festival juries and picking up prizes right through until his last film in 2004 before his death in 2007.


Moolaadé follows his themes of films with a political and social urgency. One not afraid to speak out, in his final offering to the cinematic universe he tackles the controversial subject of female circumcision, something that seems to be on and off getting much attention in the western world over the last decade. In Sembene's film (which picked up a couple of prizes at Cannes and the NSFC Award for Best Foreign Language Film) we look at how a village possibly on the verge of a cultural shift away from the practice moves through the vilification and exclusion of those opposed, and where the support comes from.

Like so many Sembene films, the protagonist, the strong one, is a woman. Collé (Fatoumata Coulibaly) is a mother who a number of years before the events in the film refused to have her daughter circumcised, knowing the risk that she may die or that childbirth might become a tortuous procedure for her (more tortuous than I can only imagine it is already...) Six girls are set to be circumcised, but they escape. Two drown themselves in a well rather than submit themselves to what could happen, while the other four run to Collé to seek refuge. She provides this for them in the form of Moolaadé, or magical protection, a rope strung across her property that no one dares to cross. This unleashes a string of problems within the village, with people variously for or against her, some of them women, some of them men. The elders feel that she is bringing shame, and they encourage her husband, who is initially against involvement, to beat her publicly to try and force her to revoke the protection, but when she is close to collapse, having held her ground, a merchant who has previously been friendly with her steps in to stop the spectacle. The repercussions for him are deadly, but the greater good this achieves for the village is obvious.


It is a very different experience watching a film like this shot by a native of the area, starring natives of the area. Unlike, say, Hotel Rwanda, where ostensibly foreigners pitch in with their views on what is going on, Sembene looks at this through the eyes of someone in tune with the traditions and the village politics involved. The correctness or barbarity of the practice is not clearly defined - yes, it is more than likely horrifically wrong, but there is a tradition here, no matter where that tradition came from or how long it has been practiced. There is a level of entrenchment here that has to be recognised and dealt with before the ceremony can be entirely excised. Sembene moves through narrative with his own view quite plainly out on show (with the sympathetic characters being those against the circumcision, and the people in charge of the ceremony portrayed in menacing anonymity) but without ever closing off the alternate angles and viewpoints dictating the arguments for.


And his method of making the film is much more... well, real. The film feels a lot closer to truth, probably due to the much simpler production methods presumably dictated by the resources available to a film of this type and his own understanding of the society he is portraying. Their day to day activities aren't romanticised or even emphasised, simply shown as a backdrop to the dominant narrative, necessities within the film.


Moolaadé emerges from all of this more as an interesting insight, however, than a fascinating motion picture. The entire way along it feels a little emotionally distant, it doesn't quite puncture through to the feeling that one might have expected from something with such a passionate discourse surrounding it. It somehow felt light. It didn't quite make it all the way through to the dramatic potential of the material. I'm sure this in many ways had to do with the relative inexperience of much of the cast and the constrictions of local, truthful filmmaking with the region, but I feel like it could have cut through a little closer to the bone.


That being said, it is a bold statement, definitely valuable even as a launching point for further discussion of the subject both cinematically and generally. And as far as an example of how films can be made in Africa by Africans, there are far worse possibilities. The film definitely warrants closer inspection of Sembene's back catalogue. 3.5 stars.

We're In A Bit Of A Decadent Spiral, Aren't We?

To Ewan McGregor and Jonathan Rhys Meyers getting it, we say yes.


Ahem.


Todd Haynes has a way of putting together exciting combinations. Firstly (well, chronologically speaking, in terms of this blog...) he gave us Patricia Clarkson and Julianne Moore in the same film with Far From Heaven. With Velvet Goldmine he's decided to throw McGregor, Rhys Meyers and Toni Collette together for a glam rock faux-biopic. Sure, Christian Bale plays a prominent role (I do think it interesting that Bale, the American, plays a Brit while McGregor, the Brit [or Scot, whatever] plays an American), but I actually didn't mind him in the film, for the first time in my Bale-watching experience.

Bale takes the central role of Arthur Stuart, a Brit living in the States working as a journalist, tasked with writing an article trying to find out whatever happened to glam rocker Brian Slade (Rhys Meyers), aka Maxwell Demon, ten years after he faked his own death on stage, a stunt that ended his career and led to him gradually fading from the spotlight. Arthur, who hides from his colleagues that he wasn't only a follower of the period, but that he was in fact at the concert in question, and had even partied with the musicians involved with the movement (in more ways than one, if you get my point, wink wink nudge nudge), wanders around interviewing various interested parties, from Slade's old manager to his ex-wife Mandy (Collette.) Through these interviews, combined with Arthur's memories of the time, we piece together Slade's rise from complete obscurity, track his influences, including Curt Wild (McGregor), and then enter his megalomaniacal and self-destructive latter stage, leading to his ultimate downfall as the ultimate icon of the times.


The film is a very thinly veiled take on the life of David Bowie, hence the title. It explores the free-wheeling sexuality of the time and the public response to it, as well as the overriding power of the pop icon - combined with the freedoms of the 60s, suddenly the idea of rock stars as role models is somewhat dissolved, being replaced by the notion that, as they are larger than life, they can do what they want without repercussion. Of course, this is what leads to the outrage at Slade after his stunt - by tampering with the emotions and the obsessions of his fanbase when he tries to fool themselves that he is dead, he instead turns them into a mob baying for his blood when it is revealed to be a hoax. Imagine Michael Jackson suddenly popping up and saying 'hey, just kidding!' There would be outrage from the majority, not relief. That is what is happening here. Sure, the decadent spiral is fun for a while, but in the end everyone has to get off, or else they will end up drinking beers alone in a seedy bar somewhere, much like what happens to Curt Wild. Or you're crying into a glass of something like Mandy. When enough is enough, you have to say so. No one needs another Lindsay Lohan.


Haynes pulls together a great cast, for many of them a few years before they would really get a great deal of international notice, and works them together well. It's not a flawless feature, but it is a solid mix of fun and dramatics, happiness and sadness, glamourousness and seriousness. How accurate an insight into the era I can't say, knowing very little about it, but it is at the very least an interesting escape exercise for those not in the know. And I was shocked by how much I enjoyed Christian Bale. He is shy for the most part, reserved, scared even, but there is a moment when he is lying outside half naked with Slade and Wild when he smiles and it is beautiful. McGregor is ok, but I think a lot of it for me always has to do with his accents - I don't think he ever quite manages to pull them off as well as we would like. Collette as well isn't at her peak - she just doesn't seem totally involved during the more emotional segments, and her brash American through the party years grates rather than endears. Rhys Meyers was definitely my standout, bringing brooding insecurity into incredible ego easily and gorgeously. He owns his Maxwell Demon character, brings it to glorious life.


Sandy Powell deservedly picked up her third Oscar nomination for the film, in the same year that she won her first for Shakespeare In Love. Haynes picked up a special Artistic Contribution award at Cannes, and was also nominated for the Palme d'Or, while uber-producer in the indie world Christine Vachon racked up her second Independent Spirit nomination with Haynes for Best Feature.


As I said, it's a fun film with faults, but it's definitely a nice way to kill an afternoon. The soundtrack is fantastic also - we love our films with kicking music. Check it out. 3.5 stars.

My Lips Are Pale Blue.

So, this one may be cheating a little, but I watched it, and I'm scrambling to make up some films, so we're all just going to have to deal with it, ok? Good. Besides, I've watched so many three hours films, that I'm sure the fact that this one doesn't quite scrape through to feature length shouldn't worry anyone. Well, it doesn't worry me. And at the end of the day, I'm only cheating myself, non?

Marry me. Immediately.

Go Quiet is the film on the bonus disc of Jónsi's limited edition release of his recent solo record Go. (Everyone should know by now that Jónsi is the lead singer of Sigur Rós.) Directed by the same man behind the band's 2007 film Heima (a beautiful documentary about a series of free concerts the boys gave in Iceland as a way of giving back to the island), Dean DeBlois (who apparently also directs films about training dragons, but that's just by the by),  Go Quiet features much of the same beautiful slow motion photography creating a sense of place rather than of story. The concept behind the film is that Jónsi wakes up alone in his messed up house after hosting a New Year's Eve party and retraces the night as he performs his songs acoustically and alone.


The album, as we know, is glorious. I was a little afraid, but it is truly terrific (bolstered by the incredible live show I saw last month - it was truly something special and would rate as one of the best live gigs I've been to.) And watching the truest love of my life, my ultimate future husband, number one of my list wandering his house barefoot, picking up instruments and singing so mournfully was breathtaking. Yes, I'm horribly biased, but there you have it. Take it or leave it.


If you're not a fan, it's still a very pretty film. As a film itself, it's not too bad. The narrative intent isn't strong enough, so it plays more as simply a live DVD - not a concert per se, but someone in their living room belting out some tunes. Were it not for the photography, it kind of could have been on YouTube. Not meaning to denigrate it, but there wasn't that much more to it.


So, it's a 3.5 star film. You can get it on its own, fear not, but it's pretty in the limited edition if you can get it. Plus, the album is terrific. Worth the buy.

I Have To Murder And Dismember A Crustacean.

Meryl Streep is a strange beast. My father loves her, he thinks anything he touches is golden. He does like watching films, but he is particularly picky and it is almost impossible to pick what he will like, but you put Meryl Streep in anything and he'll go off and watch it. I think she is a very good actress, but a lot of her more recent output makes me think of Katherine Hepburn's comment about her, about seeing the cogs behind her eyes working (to paraphrase the great Ms Hepburn.) There are, of course, fantastic exceptions. I loved her in Adaptation, and I thought her turn in The Devil Wears Prada was genius. And I've loved her in many, many movies over the years. I've probably seen her in more movies than any other actresses, which may have to do with the fact that she is, incredibly, always working. Enormous respect does have to be bestowed on her, love her or hate her, for the fact that, at 61, she is not only still a big movie star, but a huge box office draw. Sure, she very rarely headlines a film entirely on her own, and many of her roles put her opposite younger stars with significant appeal, but she's always at the top of the list. Her films manage to bring in an incredible crossover audience. I mean, according to Box Office Mojo, she has had three $100mil+ films in the last five years, with this film, Julie & Julia, getting damn close (and giving her another Oscar nomination.) There aren't many actresses full stop who can achieve that, and none that I can think of at her age. In fact, the only actress I can think of who might have more box office clout than Streep at this point is Sandra Bullock, and even then, I think a lot of people kind of go into Bullock films thinking they're going to be average, and possibly being surprised, whereas no one goes into a Streep film excepting anything less than great. I was reading, I think over at The Film Experience, some very early 2010 Oscar predictions, where they had her down as a Best Actress contender even though she is not slated to appear in any films this year, simply because she's Meryl Streep - and I don't think it's too farfetched. 

Moving on. Julie & Julia. The film is based, ostensibly, on the blog and subsequent book of one Julie Powell (Amy Adams), a young woman who, in the early days of the internet, started a blog chronicling her attempts to cook all 500 odd recipes in the iconic Julia Childs' (Streep) Mastering The Art Of French Cooking in 365 days. The blog turned into a bit of a sensation, and Powell then published the book based on the experience. Rom-com queen took up the challenge of turning the exercise into a film, merging and paralleling the travails of Powell with those of Childs. Running Childs' move with her husband Paul (Stanley Tucci), a diplomat, to his post in Paris alongside the drudgery of Powell's life with husband Eric (Chris Messina) and her challenge to herself, Ephron works them into a nice little single narrative thread. 


Childs finds herself in Paris, loving the food, but unable to find a French cookbook in English. She takes up one class to find it entirely remedial, and so enrols herself in a course for professionals, initially being scorned before setting her stubborn mind to it, practicing like buggery, and proving herself entirely capable. With a couple of friends she sets up a school, and after a while the three decide to write a book. Initially struggling to find a publisher, she eventually scores a deal back in the States, and the book is still printed to this day.


Powell is working in a cubicle in post-9/11 New York, fielding calls from people looking for compensation. The job is heartbreaking, not least for all of the tears and emotions she deals with on a day to day basis. Plus, her friends are all super-successful, and she has all but abandoned her hopes to become a writer. Craving inspiration after she and Eric move from Brooklyn to Queens (if my memory serves me correctly), she sets about writing about her attempts to cook all of these recipes, some of which are very complex, whilst still working and trying to keep her marriage stable. As the year progresses she finds herself followed by more and more people on the internet, and becomes quite a public phenomenon, leading to said book deal.


Streep does a good job of trying to step into Childs quite large shoes (she was 6'2 in real life, whereas Streep is 5'6), but I don't think she quite gets there. She seems a little awkward, and is a little too larger-than-life for me to really get into and feel her character. On the other hand, I really liked Adams as the younger, modern, more vulnerable Powell. She struggles through all of the issues related to trying to maintain her goal and her job and her life and her marriage, and as the year progresses she finds the mere task of finishing the project more of a motivation than a specific desire to actually cook the food. (I think I can relate to her a little with this project...)


The venerable Tucci plays opposite Streep again fantastically - he is seemingly bemused by Childs' dreams, but entirely supportive in a reasonably distant way, and at the same time the tones of fear at his own collapsing career come through enough to keep us in the loop without overpowering the primary narrative intent. Similarly Messina supports Adams' character well as the suffering husband who can see the end in sight but still thinks his suffering too great when confronted by the exhausted hysteria of his troubled wife.


Ephron knows what she is doing with a film like this, and she does it well. The laughs are there, the tears are there, she manipulates her audience without it ever really feeling like she is manipulating you. She's talented, especially with good material, and here she proves it. Her script also shines, deliberately overlapping lines and sentiments between the two chronologically removed stories to hit her point home, but doing it well so it never felt hamfisted or cloying.


That being said, it is just a nice film (scored wonderfully by someone named Alexandre Desplat - never heard of him.) It's not a great film, it's not one I'd watch again, probably, simply because once is enough. There's nothing really drawing me back to it. The characters were nice, the performances were good, it looked good, it flowed well, but there was no shazam. It never kicked me in the guts. Which is perfectly fine for a romantic comedy. They can't all have the heft of Notting Hill. See it for some light entertainment, but don't expect it to rock your world. 3.5 stars.

My God Hath Seen.

Back when I was still a lowly uni student, a friend of mine gave me a copy of Equus, the play, to read, as she felt that I would like it. And I did. Very much. Peter Shaffer's play is fantastic, though the only time I have ever tried to see it on stage, we got the wrong day. Silly us.


It was, however, with some hesitation that I approached Sidney Lumet's 1977 production. I kept walking past it in my local DVD store, thinking about getting it out but never actually doing it. On a particularly tired afternoon, however, when the thought of the stairs to the basement containing so many, many more films was too much to bear, and all of those titles staring at me from the shelves were making me somewhat nauseous, I pulled it out blindly, recognising the title, the director, and the lead actor and thinking, what the hell, it can't be that bad, right?

Peter Firth is TOTALLY hotter than Daniel Radcliffe...

It wasn't, either, though I do think it pales in comparison to the play itself. I think what the play (and, I assume from my previous experiences with the stage, a performance of the play) has that the movie doesn't is that ability to delve into something entirely surreal without losing believability. You can put impressionism bluntly on stage and you don't entirely divorce from reality because there is an understanding from the audience that said impressionism (or expressionism, or Brechtianism, or any other form of unrealistic ism) is necessary due to the constraints of where you are. You can't cut from a therapists office to a field, you can't bring a horse on stage and gallop it around, and so you have to make do, you have to give the idea that you are in a field, or riding a horse, and these leaps of faith flow into the psyche of the character, particularly in the case of Equus and Alan Strang.


Alan (Peter Firth) is a seventeen year old boy, brought up by an opinionated father who cowers meekly in the face of his hyper-religious wife, Alan's mother. He is brought into a psychiatric facility run by Martin Dysart (Richard Burton) after blinding six horses. And Alan is crazy. He talks in riddles, he tries to play with tired Martin's mind, he tries tricks and diversions, and he screams. But Martin has seen it all before. He takes Alan on as a favour for a friend who feels he will be intrigued by the case. And as it progresses, he is. Martin is drawn into Alan's psychosis and forced to examine himself, slowly following along the same, crazy path.


Burton does well, looking every one of the fifty-odd years he was when the film was made. He looks as tired as his character, as exasperated, and finally, as intrigued, and as insane. Firth is scary as the young man at the centre of the drama, speaking little (though sometimes volumes) as he parades around, and pulling off a terrific psychotic scene completely naked - a terrifying feat for anyone who might ever have acted. Shaffer's adaptation of his own source material feels very stagey, something Lumet does very little to discard. Much of the narration comes from behind Martin's desk, something that could very well have been lifted out of a proscenium arch and transplanted on a studio set. But the words remain as clever and as powerful, the story as strong. Nothin could take that away from the original. Fittingly, Burton, Firth and Shaffer were all Oscar nominated for their roles - and they are probably the only elements that deserved such attention, for there was nothing particularly striking about anything else within this picture. Sure, everyone else executed their roles competently, but what could have been a great film became only a little more than mediocre. 3.5 stars.

Being And Having.

A quick one on Nicolas Philibert's Être et Avoir (To Be And To Have), the 2002 documentary that seemed to be everywhere, despite the fact that I really had no idea what it was about until I got it out, and previously I had continually got it confused with The Class, which I think is understandable considering they are both French films, both documentaries (ok, we all know The Class isn't actually a doco, but you get my point), and both from the noughties. 

This kid really reminded me of the irritating, precocious one from Spellbound.

I finally got around to watching it, quite some time ago (remember, mammoth hiatus with family in tow, so this is from, what, early April or something. Jeez, I gotta get up to date asap... no social outings for me!), and I did enjoy it. It is about a small primary school in rural France, in a town of only a couple of hundred inhabitants. Due to the size of the place the school only has one class, educating pupils from throughout the primary school realm. Lead character Georges Lopez is tasked with teaching them all, though he is shortly to retire. The film follows the class for a year, with all of the different personalities, problems, egos and levels on display.


There were a couple that were striking about the film. Firstly, nothing really happens. There is no great drama, this is not a doco about a major accomplishment, or a tragedy, or someone overcoming all obstacles. It is just a film about one man, a very good teacher, doing his job in somewhat trying circumstances - that is, trying to teach various age groups at the same time. So, he has six year olds playing up and running around, and he has ten year olds trying to prepare themselves for high school. And he has to let each of them be themselves, achieve appropriately, yet allow them to exist age appropriately. I don't envy the task. (Not least because I don't like kids... but that's beside the point.)


Secondly, and this is just kind of an extended aside, I guess, it really reminded me of Spellbound. I really liked Spellbound. But the characters and how they were built seemed very similar. Interesting, huh? They were both 2002 films as well, that would have taken a long time to produce, on opposite sides of the world, but they felt similar in some ways. I mean, Spellbound was about a bunch of kids aiming for a very specific goal, with all of the work and drama and tension (of the good kind! The good kind!) that goes along with it, but they... felt the same. It's hard to explain. And I'm in a bit of a rush.


Having said all of that, it's just a nice film. I don't think it was incredible. Lopez is incredible, yes, but the film, while nice to watch, easy to watch, enjoyable to watch, is also a little forgettable. The kind of film you think about when someone brings it up and go 'oh yeah, that was a nice film...' but you don't really remember that much about it except that you thought it was a nice film. But it is a nice film. It's worth watching. Seriously. 3.5 stars.

I Modified This Tube Sock.

Bit of a hiatus, but I went on a mini-break to Copenhagen, which turned into a much longer stay thanks to a certain Icelandic volcano spreading ash everywhere and causing a bit of a European airspace shutdown - you may have heard something about it. That's all right, trains and ferries saved the day.

Now, that doesn't mean I'm still not well behind. I am. I watched Fantastic Mr Fox a while ago, and I'm a little rusty on it because of that. But I know I liked it. I didn't love it, but I liked it. I think the vocal talent was very, very charismatic (with George Clooney doing his thing, and Meryl Streep showing that even without her physical presence, her comic timing is terrific.) I think it looked really cool - I loved the stop-motion, cute little characters and the production design of the whole thing. It didn't quite grab me, but it was a nice little romp. Jason Schwartzmann was hilariously petulant, Willem Dafoe was brilliantly disguised, Eric Chase Anderson held well against far more experienced cast, Bill Murray and Jarvis Cocker worked, Owen Wilson just made me think of Owen Wilson, and I'm not a huge Owen Wilson fan so...


Alexandre Desplat (who? Who's he? Oh, him) did great things with the score, unsurprisingly. It's really a pity he doesn't score more films than he does. What? He did seven scores for 2009 films? Lazy. He's scored five films I've seen in the last six months? Work harder, man!


Look, I'm not going to knock Wes Anderson, really. He at least goes for what he wants to do. You can feel his style, whether you love it or hate it. As I think I mentioned here, I liked his Life Aquatic, but from what I've seen of the rest of his work I'm a little ho-hum. But you do know what you're getting, and you must admit that that has things going for it. Still... 3.5 stars.

I Want You With Me, That's All.

After the reasonably cool reception Fur: An Imaginary Portrait Of Diane Arbus received, both critically and commercially, I wasn't expecting anything particularly spellbinding, but in the end I was quite taken with Steven Shainberg's follow up to Secretary. It's a very, very different film to his breakout indie smash from a few years earlier.


As the title would suggest, the film is not a biography of the acclaimed American photographer. Taking a biographical novel as its source material, Fur reimagines what might have created and inspired the woman behind the photographs, what might have made her the artist she became. Nicole Kidman stars as Diane, married to Alan (Ty Burrell), a studio photographer. A man, Lionel (Robert Downey Jr) moves in upstairs from where the pair live and work, but he is not really a man to begin with - he is an enigma in a mask, eyes and mouth peering out. 

Shortly after his arrival, Diane decides that she wishes to make use of the camera her husband has given her. Alan has encouraged her to pursue her own art, and she frames her desire as a project to photograph her neighbours, though she is really drawn to the mystery of Lionel. Upon convincing him to let him into her home she discovers the man behind the mask. Lionel is covered in hair, a victim of a rare condition that has seen him make quite a living as a circus freak, meaning his friends are also of that vocation - dwarves, women without arms and the like. Rather than fear, repulsion or disgust, Diane is fascinated by him. The two are drawn together as she attempts to construct in her mind how the portrait can be best imagined, all the while taking photos of his door and nothing else. As their relationship grows Alan discovers these rolls of film, helped by his and Diane's children who are noticing that their mother is growing increasingly distant both emotionally and physically. Shocked he confronts his wife, but also on some levels understands the infatuation, which may or may not be true love, and rather than trying to put a stop to the exercise allows it to continue. Lionel, however, is dying. And Diane does not yet have her portrait.


There has been talk over the last few months about Nicole Kidman and her place in the last decade. I have read a number of people both stating and repeating the statements of others acclaiming her as the actress of the decade. This is not necessarily saying that she was the best of the noughties, but rather that, in her choices of roles, she proved herself to be one of the most interesting and intriguing. And yes, look at what she has done and who she has chosen to work with. A musical by Baz Luhrmann. A quasi-experimental theatrical take on the American mid-west with Lars Von Trier. A Russian prostitute. An Anthony Minghella epic. Remakes, thrillers, animations. Watching her hasn't always paid off, but it has always kept you guessing, and for this I wholeheartedly agree with much of what is said. I, for one, have always been in camp Kidman. And this role, a risk if ever there was one, adds to that mystique. Taking on the role of an artist as almost entirely imagined through the surrealistic eye of Shainberg and his writer Erin Cressida Wilson is a risky undertaking, but she pursues it with gusto. And the work she puts in is terrific, perfectly suited to the aloof and psychologically delicate nature of Diane.


Robert Downey Jr is an actor I can't quite get my head around. I'm not entirely sure what I think of him. I think he has a lot of charisma, but I always know when I'm watching him, even when he is covered head to toe in long, thick hair. I think his charisma definitely suited this part, which needed someone you could believe Diane would be so enamoured with, but I still thought it was Robert Downey Jr.


The visuals in the film were quite striking, taking some influence from Arbus' work, but combining them with the aforementioned surreal edge. Once upstairs everything takes on a strange edge, not quite planted in reality. Reflecting the fact that the two characters are in no small way unsure not only of themselves, but of each other and the situation they find themselves, the look of the production and the nature of how they are shown is all a little off-kilter, keeping you slightly off-balance. And it works a treat.


Fur is a very, very interesting idea and the outcome was a valiant effort at trying something new. Did it work in every way? No. It all remained a little distant, not quite hitting the viscera, staying put in the intellect. But, in keeping with where Kidman has spent her last decade, it was very, very interesting. 3.5 stars.

I Do Barbara Rush.

I'm not quite sure I understand the allure of Warren Beatty as an uber-sex symbol of the 1970s. I mean, sure, he's not ugly, but why did people fall over themselves to get into bed with him? Power and money would have something to do with it, I'm sure, but still...


Shampoo, produced by Beatty and written by him and Robert Towne of Chinatown fame, is another of the New Hollywood films of the 1970s, directed by Hal Ashby. Beatty also stars as hairdresser George, not gay as one always hopes their hairdressers to be, putting him in a position where he can sleep with pretty much any woman he wants - and he does. He's in a relationship with budding actress and bimbo Jill (Goldie Hawn), and having an affair with Felicia (Lee Grant.) At the same time he is trying to set up his own salon to escape the clutches of his nagging employer, and to this end goes to Felicia's husband, who is interested in investing in the new venture thanks to the support of his wife. While meeting with the man, Lester (Jack Warden), he discovers that Lester also has a mistress - Jackie (Julie Christie.) George and Jackie have previously had a relationship, and Lester's interest in George's business creates some very tricky situations for the younger man, not helped by his rabid sexuality that even sees him bed Felicia and Lester's young daughter Lorna (Carrie Fisher in her feature film debut.)

All of this confusion leads George to begin to assess his sexual looseness and crave the simplicity of stability. After George, Lester, Jackie and Jill all end up at an excessive party together and Lester and Jill catch George and Jackie going at it on the floor, George seems to realise that it is indeed Jackie that he wants, but his proposal to her comes too late - Lester has left Felicia and is taking Jackie away so the two of them can live happily ever after, leaving our protagonist alone and despondent.


The film is set in the late 1960s, and the sexual liberation of the period is front and centre. Everyone seems to be having sex with everyone - it gets hard to keep up. The script is great, not holding anything back as it delves into the desires and beastial urges of both man and woman. Beatty was a little underwhelming, seemingly confused through the entire film, not really allowing his character any strength, instead trying to muster up sympathy from the viewer for his unfortunate predicament whereby he is desirable to every woman who comes across his path - boohoo, poor George. Hawn proves she can play the bimbo, something she has done many times since, and Christie as always is sublime. Grant won an Oscar for her portrayal, which seems a little odd as I think she is one of the less memorable characters, but oh well.


All in all, it's an entertaining little romp with beautiful production design (though maybe that's just a love of the way people and spaces were dressed in the 1960s...) that somehow falls short of being the masterpiece of sexual freedom and the 70s comedown that it so desperately wants to be. 3.5 stars.

Cartwheels.

Somersault came pretty much at the most recent nadir of the Australian film industry. That year, the percentage of box office commanded by local product in the Australian industry was pretty much at its lowest ever, if my memory serves me correctly. There were very, very few films of any interest released that year, meaning that Somersault also swept the board at the Australian Film Institute Awards (AFIs), winning thirteen statues in every single category from fifteen nominations, beating the previous record held by the eleven wins for The Piano a decade or so earlier. Is it a better film than The Piano? Hell no! Is it a bad film? No, it is not.

I'm glad I rewatched it. I've been meaning to for years, because my initial impression was so tempered by the press surrounding it and the awards it was winning, which would suggest that it is the best Australian film of all time, something it clearly isn't. It was the best film of that year, however, but still. And it did herald the arrival on the scene of current bright young things Abbie Cornish and Sam Worthington, so that's something.


Cate Shortland wrote and directed this coming of age film set around Jindabyne, in one of the very few areas in Australia where you can consistently play in the snow. During winter at least. It really is a desert continent. Heidi (Cornish) is sixteen and caught up in desire for her mother's boyfriend (Damien de Montemas), causing her swift evacuation from her home in Canberra, taking herself to the lake town of Jindabyne. She finds a job, is helped out by motel proprietor Irene (Lynette Curran) and begins to explore her sexuality in self-destructive ways, though she always comes back to Joe (Worthington), with whom she begins a relationship of sorts. Joe has his own issues to deal with, including a brief homo one with older Richard (Erik Thomson), but the two are inexplicably drawn to the damaged nature of the other. Eventually, Heidi's ways get to Irene and she tries to kick her out, but Heidi breaks down and is instead rescued by her mother.


I've stated before that I'm not a huge Abbie Cornish fan, with the exception of Candy where I did quite love her by the end of it, and Somersault is no exception. Worthington is capable in his role, but there are no fireworks. He's actually better than I remembered him (probably my memory was affected by the subsequent dire Macbeth, which was truly terrible in so many ways), quite enjoyable really. Curran is great, playing that older, wiser Australian woman nailed by Noni Hazlehurst but also pulled off here, and I quite like Thomson in most anything he does - he seemed to channel a lot of the qualities brought to the older, gentler gay man by Peter Phelps in Lantana: his affectations are very similar.


Two points the film really, really has going for it. Firstly, the cinematography is spectacular, truly luscious. Robert Humphreys won everything going, with good reason, for his stunning work in the snow, playing with white and colour, making the landscape and then the details inside a true character in the story. Secondly, the score by Decoder Ring is phenomenal. I forgot how much I loved it and had it on repeat back when the film was out, but I'm reloving it now. Seriously, check it out. And then go and buy the soundtrack. Extraordinary.


All in all, I remembered the film as maybe 2.5 stars, but I'm giving it 3.5 stars. It's a solid effort, a vignette and a bit messy, but there are enough elements to make it worthwhile.

In The Kingdom Of Kitsch You Would Be A Monster.

I love the writings of Milan Kundera. I think the way he explores his characters and the way he approaches narrative is thrilling, different, exciting. And I've always thought it would be kind of hard to transplant his particularly literary style into cinema without making vast changes. Philip Kaufman, however, gave it a red hot go with his adaptation of Kundera's classic The Unbearable Lightness Of Being.

Tomas (Daniel Day Lewis) is a Czechoslovakian brain surgeon, living in Prague, carrying on a physical and intellectual relationship with artist Sabina (Lena Olin), whilst successfully romancing and seducing any other woman he may wish to. Attractive, successful and intelligent, he is sent out of Prague to perform an operation and meets Tereza (Juliette Binoche), a young country girl who seems to fall for him almost instantly. Returning to Prague he doesn't give her another thought, continuing to screw Sabina whilst refusing to turn it into a true and traditional relationship, when Tereza turns up at his doorstep and he takes her in, for the first time allowing a woman to sleep in his bed.


The arrival of Tereza doesn't stop Tomas from seeing Sabina, or indeed chasing anyone else he may want, and the three eventually end up in a ménage à trois of sorts, each knowing about the other, swapping around, doing whatever it is they have to do. This is all happening in the lead up to the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia, and Tomas writes an article denouncing the Soviets, comparing them to Oedipus, in that he plucked out his eyes in recognition of their crimes, but the Soviets are yet to repent in such a way. The tanks roll in to Prague, photographed beautifully by Tereza, and the three flee to Switzerland, first Sabina, and then Tomas and Tereza together. Sabina begins a relationship with a married professor, but when he announces that he has left his wife to be with her she runs away, unable to be tied down to any form of normality. Meanwhile, Tomas has maintained his womanising while Tereza has struggled to fit in with Swiss society, and, angered, she flees back to Soviet Czechoslovakia. Distraught, Tomas follows her, despite the fact that his passport is confiscated and he is left trapped in the country.


Tereza is elated by his return, but Tomas finds himself unable to return to his job as a doctor as he refuses to sign a document retracting his previous article. He is deemed too politically dangerous to be in such a lofty position, and is left washing windows, still seducing women as he goes. Tereza convinces Tomas to leave Prague for a simpler country life, and the two bunk up with an old patient of Tomas', living off the land and enjoying the simple things until an horrific accident leaves Sabina shocked in her new American home.


You see? It's quite complex. There's a lot going on in the story, necessitating its not insubstantial running time. But Kaufman (and co-writer Jean-Claude Carrière) do an admirable job of keeping the story moving over this period, really only using three main characters, even managing to retain some of Kundera's styles, making them work in a visual manner. Kaufman keeps the film moving despite some very enclosed, repeated set pieces as well - it's quite a feat to keep one entertained in the same place time and time again.


Day Lewis is great as Tomas, though I didn't really feel that his character had that much to do over the course of the film. I've seen much stronger performances from him, which isn't to say that there was anything wrong with this one. However, the film seems much more to be about the women, particularly Tereza, and what she goes through and how she responds. Binoche pulls of her young naivety and growth into a stronger and purposeful woman with gusto, shining through dour moments with clarity and beauty. Olin supports and enlivens her, giving Tereza a launching pad to discover herself and grow, to deal with Tomas, accept him, and then change him to suit her needs.


Editing and sound legend Walter Murch (he didn't handle the sound on this film) cuts it all together sublimely, and Sven Nykvist shoots the film in a neo-realist, almost dirty fashion, allowing Prague to look rundown but real while Switzerland seems pretty but sterile, nicely balanced by Tomas and Tereza's time in the country. All in all, a brave attempt, reasonably successfully completed. 3.5 stars.